Henry Sylvester was the second prize recipient from our poetry category at the annual Spring Writing Contest. Sylvester’s work leaves reader wondering about chance and life.


There’s a hushed quality,

An unease in every word,

Bend of the knuckle,

Misfiring in the left hemisphere.

A closing in or out, a compounding,

Like a new set of teeth ready

To come out.

You can wait a lifetime,

Thousands, thousands of–

Yet everything only happens

A small number of times,


Maybe never.